The Game Continues
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: The aftermath of the chess game is only the beginning.


The final piece teeters over in his grasp, bouncing against the board with a solid thunk.

"I believe this one is yours. Well played," Cullen says as he leans back in his chair with an easy grin on his face. Ellana sits across from him with her eyes pinned to their recent match, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. "We shall have to try again sometime."

Cullen can still feel the warm embers their earlier conversation created. The fact she wishes to spend more time with him, time not spent at the War Room or juggling reports between one another, makes him feel like a fresh recruit, but he hasn't felt this relaxed for quite some time either.

"Commander." Ellana's voice pulls him from his thoughts. She glances up, her bright eyes narrowing. He's seen this look before. She wears it when holding judgment, when facing down wraiths and Orlesians. He straightens up, the warmth in his gut quickly turning cold and heavy.

"Yes?"

"Did you just let me win?"

"I, uh-" Cullen wonders if his cheeks look like bright signal fires, letting her know the truth without him speaking. By the way the corner of her mouth turns up in a victorious smile, it seems his guilt is assured.

"Because I don't know how I feel about the commander of my army throwing battles."

"Inquisit-"

"I also didn't practice months with Dorian at this shemlen game just to be handed victory. I've never managed to beat him, most likely because he's the worst cheat in existence, but I thought you'd play fair."

"Forgive me, I didn't-wait, you've been practicing? Why?"

It is Ellana's turn to look chagrined. She fidgets with the end of her sleeve and looks down, away. "Because, well, oh nevermind it's nothing. I…I should go!"

She stands up so quickly that her body cannot keep up with her frantic decision. Cullen rises as she tips forward and their arms tangle until they are both off balance. The table between them bears the brunt of the chaos and the board slides from the surface to clatter to the floor. Pieces scatter across the gazebo and Ellana gives a horrified gasp.

"Ir abelas! I mean, I'm sorry!" Cullen watches her dip down to grab the lost souls for a moment before kneeling down to join her.

"There's no need to apologize. It was an accident on both our accounts," he says.

They work as a team, rescuing knights and securing queens, and Ellana worries over each to check for injuries. "Oh, I think I've broken this one. You must have had this for ages. I'm so sorry-"

"That's not your doing. I let Branson and Mia borrow my set one time. He was not pleased when she trounced him and threw this piece across the room. I never let him use it without my close supervision again."

Ellana lets out a nervous laugh as she places the chipped rook back in its place. "I see. All the same, I'm sorry for the mess I've caused. Have you seen the, oh-"

Their fingers overlap atop the last wayward piece, a king fallen from his castle. Ellana tries to pull away, but Cullen abandons the search and holds onto her instead with a gentle insistence. Her fingers are warm, calloused from where her staff rubs against skin, but he finds them beautiful all the same.

Without thinking, he brings her hand to his lips and brushes a soft kiss against her knuckles. His own daring surprises him, but everything seems to unravel into new, wonderful patterns in her presence. There's a stunned silence before she smiles and the world beyond turns into nothing but smears of color and sound.

"Oh," she says again in a breathless whisper. Cullen would like to do more, to hold her close, to whisper in her ear and make her shiver, to discover the taste of her lips. He leans forward, intent on achieving one of his goals, but stops himself short. This is not the place for such things with the whole garden privy to their moment.

Instead he uses their connection to bring them both back to their feet. He moves to give Ellana space to breathe and escape his attraction if unwanted, but she holds tight to his fingers. He glances at her, surprised and elated all at once.

The Inquisitor steps forward and brings their hands up between them. She's so close Cullen can smell the tea and ginger soap on her skin. Her expression turns sly in an instant and a spark glows inside her eyes that reignites the embers into steady flames.

Ellana unravels their embrace and places the king into his palm, her touch lingering much longer than necessary. "Next time I hope you won't go so easy on me, Commander," she says, soft yet assured, and with that glint in her gaze he cannot be sure if she speaks of the game or something else.

She leaves him with a quick farewell and Cullen watches her bound through the garden and back into the castle proper. He rolls the chess piece between his fingers, a foolish grin on his face, as he contemplates their next move.


End file.
